FORGES
by jink
Summary: Events after the siege in Mirkwood. The journey to Laketown from Bilbo's point of view. Kili is badly wounded and running a fever. How will this impact the quest?
1. Hospitality of Laketown

pEver on they sailed silently through the fog, drawing their cloaks tight about their shoulders while the Bargeman steered their course. Wet and cold, beaten and weary, the first heated embers of complaint sparked among the dwarves. A poor investment, stolen heirlooms, an ill-fated journey with uncertain outcome, bitter murmuring was soon heard above the gentle wake of the boat./p

pBilbo himself could feel a sniffle coming on chilled to his very bones. He wished desperately he had never left his handkerchief at home. Wiping his nose on his sleeve, he sought quieter company with Fili and Kili. They seemed content to let their elders quarrel, particularly Kili who at last had fallen asleep./p

p"Look!" Ori, the youngest, cried out sharply. /p

pAll complaining breaths at that moment fell hushed. /p

pBilbo lifted himself up to peer over the ledge of the railing. Looming high above the white-coiled mists, the shadowed peak of the Lonely Mountain came into view. Bilbo shuddered. He had faced spiders, battled goblins, fled frightful wargs and all for this moment. Now that he could see their quest's end, he did not like the look of it at all. /p

pThe Company, however, being dwarves were of a very different mind. It occurred to Bilbo that although a cozy hole in the ground might seem adequate for a hobbit, the blood of ancient kings ran through the veins of Thorin Oakenshield. Halls of splendor long denied, masterfully crafted stones and pillars were as heartening to a dwarf as a warm hearth to Shire folk. /p

pKili, making light of his wound, roused from his brother's side. His pale face regained a little color when his eyes beheld the sight./p

p"At long last!" Fili cried. "Erebor!"/p

pHearts were made lighter in that instant. The dwarves soon seemed to shake off their bitter weariness and even Kili found his feet to gain a better view. Nevertheless, pain swiftly overcame him and he once more slumped against the prow of the ship./p

p"Why do you look at me so?" Kili muttered, worrying at the ragged knot bound tightly round his leg. "It is nothing more than a scratch."/p

p"No. That is more than a scratch. That is an orc wound." Bilbo hissed. "If we had any sense at all we would turn this barge right around and seek aid from the elves!"/p

p"They will not help us." Fili spoke sharply beside his brother. "We have come too close to stray now."/p

p"Bother and DRAT, where is Gandalf?" Quite some time had passed since they had last seen the gray wizard and to Bilbo it seemed as though he had abandoned them altogether. Though the gruff bargeman's handful of willow bark had quieted the fire running through Kili's veins, it would do nothing to stay orc poison. He did not know where the wizard could be at this time, all he did know was that the dark river seemed to flow on forever and Kili's breath drew heavier and heavier./p

p"I do not like this at all." /p

pHe had not much time to dwell on the matter before all were ordered suddenly and harshly by Bard to climb back into the tattered barrels an./p

pThorin's grumbling voice was loudest./p

p"We've seen enough of these double-cursed barrels…" /p

p"Be glad of them lest the watch discover you." Bard, for his part, hurried to usher the last of the party into the wet crates. "There is a checkpoint ahead. If you are spotted, we'll be delayed under sword and bow until patrol arrives."/p

pBilbo could see Thorin's great hand curl into a fist over an axe handle that was not there. This close to journey's end, Thorin would have seen this man of Laketown hacked in two before being forced back into the hated barrels. He obeyed hardy willing, casting an ill-graced eye on Fili as he helped his brother to standt./p

p"You there, pale one!" Bard shouted. "I've a smaller casket near dry from last week's load, it will serve you better than these wet ones."/p

pGratefully Kili murmured his thanks to the bargeman. Fili was happy to find not one but two smaller barrels close to the prow. Both were stuffed with straw and reeked of apples but they were indeed drier and therefore, Bilbo hoped, a little warmer./p

p"Let me be." Kili hoisted himself into the barrel and had there been room enough, Bilbo was certain Fili would have climbed in with him. Once every member of the party lay hidden deep within a casket, Bard addressed them all./p

p"Make not a sound, any of you. There are guardsmen ahead."/p

pBard was good as his word (and their coin). The bargeman had vowed to smuggle the party unseen past the Master's Watchmen at Laketown and so he had./p

pBut not without some humility./p

pWords were exchanged and silver pieces crossed palms and tinkled in pockets. A heavy smell soon wafted over their heads, the sharp tang of brine and ash. All waited within his wooden prison and waited with thumping breast and stilled breath. /p

pNo sooner had the Bargeman traded words, when Bilbo found to his dismay a mass of slimy cold lake trout being dumped over his head./p

pFor all this, Bilbo grumbled, holding his nose against the overwhelming stink of fish, he would have gladly swum across the frozen waters all the way to Laketown /  
-/p

pHalf the party was near senseless when at last they were freed from the blasted barrels. The rotting stink of fish clung to their beards and clothes but they were alive if not altogether hale. Fili and Kili, who had been given separate hiding places, seemed well conditioned for their troubles though Kili's leg still weakened him. Unlike their uncle, they had not been doused head to toe in fish oil and, save for a few bruises, were relatively dry and seemed no worse if not better./p

p"Now what?" Thorin demanded. "You have brought us here, human. It is time to keep your end of the bargain."/p

p"We will to my home where my children are waiting. There will be hot food and blankets to revive you. Now follow me swiftly and silently. There are guards at every wharf."/p

pLaketown was nothing at all like the Shire, thought Bilbo, as he hurried behind the group, ducking into alleyways and niches until the way was clear. The hayfields of Hobbiton rang loud with the screams of children at play but the life of Laketown's young was cold and harsh. There was little time for play with nets to be mended, hooks to be sharpened, and the day's catch to render into useful ware. /p

pA last miserable dunking through the Lakeman's toilet might have almost been the death of poor Bilbo but he gathered up his fortitude (of which hobbits have considerable store) and was very glad to be under a roof once more. /p

pBard the Bargeman kept an honest house and his small family, for all their hardships, welcomed their Father with many hugs and kisses. /p

p"Welcome to my home, Masters. Take your leave. My daughters will attend you."/p

pThe scent of exotic spices from distant shores tickled Bilbo's nose the moment he stepped past the threshold. A man who worked the riverways must have riches unmeasured by gold. Vials of every description containing rare powders and syrups lined his pantry shelves and the eldest girl, Sigrid, had just lifted an iron pan of steaming gingerbread from the oven. The very scent of it warmed him through to his hairy toes and his mouth began to water. Though the bedraggled company would have sooner welcomed a bowl of broth and distilled spirits, they accepted the offerings from the smallest girl, Tilda, carrying the spiced cakes to all from a pile in her apron. /p

pMugs of strong coffee were passed round and by and by the party began to regain something of their former selves. Clay pipes were lit, dripping stockings wrung out and so they took their ease within the safekeeping of Bard's family home. Bilbo could not remember being so glad to be dry again. /p

pNew woven clothes were provided and each dwarf found an article to suit him as Bard's eldest daughter boiled the fish smell out of their own ragged garments. The laundry cauldron was already brimming to capacity while the strong lass turned their shirts over with a heavy wooden paddle./p

p"I know the chill of a dousing on a winter's day. Bain has gone to fetch a barrel of wine to mull. It will soon have your blood flowing again. Until then, my house will shelter you. You have earned it."/p

p"Our thanks, Bowman." Thorin spoke from his chair by the hearth though he did not speak wholly from his heart if Bilbo had a say. /p

pTired and bothered by the commotion of grousing dwarves, Bilbo took his leave of them all to get some air. Unbeknownst to the party, he slipped on his magic ring and wandered about the room with ease, stealthily inspecting the strange pots of spices and herbs. He enjoyed for the moment being absent from the group and wandered the big house to his own content./p

pBilbo noticed that Kili, sitting as close to the fire as he dared, was looking quite haggard and ill. Despite the warm food and drink, his limbs were shaking and his brow was damp. He stared long into the burning embers until Bard's smallest daughter came round to offer him a piece of cake./p

p"Are you well, Mister Dwarf?" Bilbo remarked that a human child was of near height to a young dwarf. Unseen, he stood behind the small girl to listen./p

p"The fire has done me much good, little one." /p

pThe girl wrinkled her nose and frowned. Though Kili was quick to hide it, the wound had begun to fester and a strange odor now came from the soiled bandage./p

p"Was that wound bravely got?" She asked, pointing to his knee./p

pKili's wan smile did little to mask his pain./p

p"I got a nasty cut chopping kindling with my axe. We dwarves need a great deal of firewood to light the forges to make our trinkets and fine weapons. I wasn't careful you see and I earned the wrath of the Elf King for knocking down one of his trees."/p

p"Did you meet the Elf King?" Her blue eyes grew big./p

p"Only a glimpse. His Majesty gave us good chase. Now this leg is no worry for a sturdy dwarf like me and certainly not a sweet maid like you." /p

pHe motioned to hurry her on her way but Bilbo's ears pricked up sharply to hear him whisper. /p

p"If you would fetch me new linen and lye, I'm sure my awful leg would mend all the sooner." He held a finger to his lips. "But keep it a secret, aye lass? Like an oyster hides its treasure?"/p

pThe young archer smiled and patted the top of her golden head./p

p"Now my pearl, off and tell no one!"/p

pThe child nodded fretfully, bounding up the staircase to the loft. Bilbo looked on with growing dread as brave Kili clenched his teeth against the wound's torment. No doubt the fire that had started in his veins had regained its course and with it, Bilbo knew, the poison would only spread. What help there was for it he could not guess./p

pHe knew he ought to alert someone—Fili or even yet, Thorin. He should warn them of this plight but in his heart Bilbo knew what disaster his tidings would bring. The wrath of his people would not ease the poor lad's suffering nor advance their quest. Bilbo agonized from his hiding place as he watched Kili tend his leg, looking with watchful eyes to escape the party's notice. /p

pThe Company by now had grown restless, pondering their next move. Would they to Erebor come dawn? What of their weapons? They could not surprise the dragon Smaug unarmed! Dissent began stirring among them until Thorin's word silenced them all./p

p"We wait until nightfall. For now we rest." /p

pKili had wrapped his leg anew with linen the small girl had brought. Bilbo watched with a heart full of pity as Kili applied lye to the ugly wound, which now suppurated and left a foul smell. Somehow yet paler and breathless, he nevertheless struggled silently to his feet to prepare his bed on the floor, far from questioning glances and most of all his kin. Fili remained at his side, offering aid with stubborn earnest. /p

p"Brother, you are pale." Fili spread his cloak over a reasonably inviting sack of groats by the larder./p

p"I am weary is all. You fuss like a goodwife." Kili found his own bed very near to the fireplace. To Bilbo it seemed his pride was injured almost as grievously as his leg./p

pBilbo chose a spot close to the stairs, slipping the ring off his finger and placing it in his pocket. The Company now lay strewn about the Bargeman's floor, each settled in a blanket as comfortably as the oaken boards seeped in brine would allow. /p

pFourteen curiously small shirts and trousers swayed gently on the line overlooking Laketown./p


	2. To Arms

Bilbo woke feeling a great deal better than his memory could recall. The fire was roaring in the hearth and its blaze warmed him to his toes beneath the potato sacking that had served as his down comforter. He was dry as a wick at last and for that he was above all grateful. Bilbo was quite sick of the damp. If he had learned anything on this quest, it was far better to be dry than to be anything else. The dwarves yawned and groaned from their resting places on the floor, causing quite a stir indeed throughout the small house. For the better part of an hour, they bumbled about sorting themselves, plucking down their laundered garments from the line and bickering about who owned what.  
Fili and Kili were quietest among them. Pulling his tunic and wool jacket over his head, Bilbo approached the brothers with not a little dread. Overnight he'd watched Kili apply grease and lye to the bloodied wound on his leg but the lad seemed barely able to breathe with the pain of it.  
This morning the lad looked no better but at least no worse under the weak sunlight filtering through the glass. Bilbo noted that his movements were sluggish and he did not waken as easily as his brother who was already on his feet grumbling about breakfast. Oats and salt were boiling in a pot though many in the party refused it, calling it food for ponies (in their own language so as not to offend their host). Bilbo himself was glad to have anything hot at all in his belly and Fili, with a like mind, filled a bowl to take to his brother. Kili accepted with a grimace, glowering at Fili's urging that he must preserve his strength. However, he ate no more than a few mouthfuls before pushing the bowl away.

"Eat." Fili urged. "Don't be spoiled."

"Later." Kili sighed, resting a heavy head between his hands. "I've no stomach today."

Bilbo could offer few words of comfort to the pair though he continued to worry long after. Dampness glistened on Kili's brow and his face was drawn and haggard. He had not got much rest by the look of it and how he would fare climbing the perilous slope of Erebor was quite beyond Bilbo's imagination. Would Thorin leave behind his own kinsman? No doubt this dread lingered in the heart of Kili, making his suffering an even greater burden to bear.

"How fares our Headstrong?" The voice of Dwalin was enough to rattle the rusting pots. "Up for one more hike, laddie?"

"Aye, and better!" Kili responded though he wrapped his cloak tighter about his shoulders. Fili smiled as he readied his cloak and braces. Bilbo guessed that he was of a same mind—that the warmth of Bard's hearth and the fabled hardiness of dwarves had stayed the poison a little. Kili's cheek was still pale as new milk but he was standing and breathing and that must be to the satisfaction of all.

"For my half of the treasure," Groaned old fat Bombur. "I'd stay abed and poke that worm Smaug. My legs were not made for mountain climbing."

"Make haste, all of you." Thorin commanded. "We wait for cover of night." To Bard he said. "You will lead us to the Armory of this Town and then we shall be beholden to you no more."

"What mean you to do?" Bard asked. "You would surely never be able to overtake the watch."

"No." Thorin agreed sullenly. "Though our lot has bandied with men in better times, we will risk no brawl this night. What we cannot buy with honest coin we must steal. For our journey's end hangs in the balance."

Under shade of darkness they crept with stealth along the wharfs, taking great care to go unseen. This proved not a problem at all for Bilbo even without the aid of a magic ring. The Armory of Laketown was less a fortress and more a rotting wooden barracks, creaking with age and damp. Since the devastation of Smaug so many years ago, Bilbo thought, the people of this town had little use for tools of war. Where once these ports flowed with riches and splendor, now there seemed little left to defend and these men of the wharfs had all but forgotten the arts of battle. Simple bows of yew and pine spears served better the likes of a bargeman than mace or blade.  
Dwarves are expert locksmiths and it took little trouble at all for the greenest among them to unlatch the mechanism barring the great safe. Bilbo followed as silently as he dared but his heart was thumping and jumping so madly he thought the guards at their posts would surely hear.

Inside the stronghold was a great hall lined with rows of weapons in every shape, size and sharpness imaginable. Blades were deftly unlatched from their casings, spears, axes and daggers gathered by the armful. These were human-forged weapons crafted for the large hands of warlike men. To a little hobbit, they were ridiculous, clumsy things and Bilbo himself was content with Sting latched safely in its scabbard. Still, only fools stormed a mountain with nothing but a dagger so he aided the company as best he could, grunting mightily under the weight of a particularly ugly iron war hammer.

Bilbo hated every wretched moment of it. His sole purpose on this quest was to be quiet and clever and here they all were making a farce of burglary. Weapons such as these were wielded with ease by thick arms, big hands and stout backs. Bilbo started at every clink and clang of metal against metal as each dwarf gathered what arms and shield plates he could carry. For a burglar, Bilbo thought ruefully, he was full of nerves and shivers.

Fili and Kili stayed close by Thorin who had selected the largest weapons from their placements on the wall. Muscular and hardy, the two youths were entrusted with the biggest loads. Fili shouldered his burden with ease, swiftly moving with nary a huff nor puff. 'With strength like that," thought Bilbo. "We shall be gone faster than tea brews.

Kili bore his load without a sound though Bilbo noted his gait seemed rather unsteady and his great arms shook with fine tremors as though he were chilled or feverish. Were he truly as hale as he would have his kinsmen believe, he would not have aroused the suspicion of his uncle.

"Can you manage, lad?" Thorin turned a watchful eye on his nephew. Through the cast of moonlight, Bilbo saw Kili's cheeks flush crimson.  
"Aye." He panted, shifting the weight of his armful. "Though I would we were gone the sooner."

Under the strain of so many weapon the narrow staircase proved perilous for his beleaguered steps. Down he came crashing over the wooden slats, stolen swords ringing out like a thousand broken glasses. For a moment, none dared breathe. Voices raised in alarm from outside and heavy footsteps could be heard scurrying about.

Dropping his armful with a great clatter, Bilbo rushed to Kili who was nothing but a heap of awkward limb and tangled cloak. The young dwarf was trembling all over and Bilbo could feel the frantic thud of his heart against his side. Men at arms were gathering quickly around the armory and there was little chance of escape for no sooner had poor Kili risen to his feet when his throat was caught by the glint of a sharpened edge aimed with deadly intent.

"Make no move, thief!" A gruff voice spoke. Bilbo was so frightened that he nearly slipped on his ring again and fled but he could not abandon Kili who stood quaking with anger and shame at his blunder. Soon the party were rounded up and marched through the streets, a great commotion stirred up among the townspeople roused from their beds. What did their wondering eyes behold but the Dwarf King of their legends and songs being prodded like a common criminal up the steps of the Master's Hold? Heated whispers swarmed about the midnight air, humming and thrumming like a thing alive. Soon they were halted before a growing mob gathered with torches burning bright.

Was it He? The Great King Under the Mountain?

Had the King carved from stone returned at last or was this nothing more than a ragged band of blacksmiths and tavern minstrels?

Bilbo shivered with cold and fear. Snow fell in great white feathers across his face and the wind from the lake bit savagely at his toes and fingers.

"We are done for." Kili moaned. "Forgive me, Thorin."

"Quiet." Fili shushed him. "Our fate lies in the hands of men now."

The Master of Laketown burst forth from his grand house like a great bilious sack of hot air. Wearing a gilded robe and feathered night cap, he looked very out of sorts and ill-placed among the hardy people under his command. Words were spoken by man and Dwarf. Thorin stood tall, speaking with a voice as powerful and terrible as the Mountain itself. The hearts of the Laketown men were lifted, no doubt roused to the cause of Thorin Oakenshield whose prideful oaths backed more than just the demise of Smaug the Terrible. Much like dwarves themselves, Men coveted shining gifts of gold and silver and these things they would have in abundance once their day was won. Bilbo heard little. He stood by Fili who had all but carried his brother's weight along the procession.

"Water. Please." Kili murmured weakly though none but Bilbo did heed him. He swayed on his feet, exhausted. "Water or I shall faint."

Water is not much to ask but Bilbo at that very moment had none. All eyes were on Thorin as he spoke of his destiny, the rightful heir to Erebor come hither with his kin to retake the treasure of old. Bilbo's pity overcame him and, unnoticed by all, he slipped on his ring and forcibly pushed his way past the throng, running into the first open door he could find. Burglar that he was, he swiftly found a skin of clean water, nearly tripping over himself in his haste to find Kili.

The crowd was dispersing in high spirit, cries of "Hail Thorin King!" rising up among the townspeople. In the confusion, Bilbo nearly lost sight of Fili and Kili who were now making their way to a banquet hall in celebration of the Mountain King's triumphant return.

Slipping off the ring he cried out: "Hoi! Kili! Fili! Wait!"

Kili smiled gratefully, his wan face lighting up at the sight of the little hobbit rushing hither and thither through the big strides of the men, offering up the precious water skin.

"Mister Baggins you are a wonder!" Cried Fili.

"Hurry, drink this!" Bilbo urged, pressing the skin into Kili's hands.

Kili gulped it down as though it were good strong mead and seemed revived by it.

"From beggars and lowly rabble to honored guests of the Master!" Fili shook his head in wonder. "Indeed how swiftly our fortunes have shifted!"

"I do not like men." Kili said, wiping his mouth on his sleeve as he lumbered on. "They are false and care nothing for our heritage. The only thing that serves them is our gold"

"Well like them or not, we are now obliged to accept their favor." Bilbo said.

"I am to blame for this." Kili's words were bitter. "Had I not been clumsy and given away our stealth—"

"Now brother, cheer up." Fili kept his spirit jolly and his smile bright at his visage shone. "You know our Uncle! As though we could hide thirteen dwarves of Erebor anywhere for long! He is no longer Thorin Oakenshield but Thorin King! Let us rejoice!"

But Kili stayed pale and silent, as though the mountain's glory and the legends of old were a weight he could no longer carry.

Bilbo was ill at ease as they wended their way through the town to the Master's Banquet hall. They had gone from thieves in the night to old sung heroes in the blink of an eye! What a change in weather! He regretted losing the favor of Bard, the wise bargeman who had been such a help to them in their hour of need. Casting their fortunes into the greedy hands of the Master was not wisdom he'd expect from the Thorin Oakenshield he had met at Bag End so long ago. Now a strange glimmer lit Thorin's eye at mere mention of the word "gold" and he did not notice at all when the steps of his two nephews fell far behind the rest, to ease a suffering Kinsman.

Bilbo did not like it, he did not like it at all.


	3. Misbegotten Revelry

Bilbo looked around him and wondered where he belonged. Most of the thirteen were in the company of Thorin, wetting their beards with the town's finest brew and singing songs that only their grandfathers likely remembered. Thorin was seated in a place of honor at the Master's side, calmly feasting and perusing the list of supplies promised by the town's merchants. It was announced that they would each be bestowed with fitting armor, even the "little Shire chap" which Bilbo took some offense to. He had never in his life donned armor of any kind and he had no wish to start now. All around him were talks of riches and perils and tales from days when men and dwarves drew handsome profit from the other but to these matters, Bilbo was most remote and bored.

Kili had nobly feigned his cheer since their arrival and since he'd very little beard to wet being one of the youngest, had settled stiffly in a cushioned chair by the fireplace some distance away from the merriment. With listless gaze he stared into the flames, blowing rings with his pipe and Bilbo knew his heart's troubles. Having a wish to be alone and away from the din, Bilbo hesitated to approach him though he was soon met by his brother, who never strayed far from his side.

Words were passed between the two that Bilbo, even had he been close enough to hear, could not understand for the language of Dwarves was much beyond him though he'd picked up a word or two being in their company these many months.

At length Bilbo crept away from the long table (having stuffed himself full of eel pasties and cockle stew) and slipped on his ring. He was quite eager to know how Kili fared and if perhaps the foul poison's intensity had passed. Fili stood behind his brother's chair, a goblet of steaming wine in his hand.

"I'm weary of playing nursemaid." Fili spoke rather crossly. "Come have some wine and stop your sulking!"

"I never asked it of you." Kili's brooding countenance was like a stormcloud. "Let me be alone, why can't you?"

"Your leg. It's not healed, is it?"

"That is no concern of yours." Kili tamped down the embers of his pipe with his thumb.

"Say this from your heart, brother?"

"Aye, and from my mind." Kili sighed. He hissed in pain as his fingers passed over the frayed binding on his leg. The cloth had darkened with blood and a foul stench rose from it.

"You are ill." Said Fili gently, pressing his hand to Kili's brow. "Your mind is not clear."

Kili flinched and pulled angrily away. "Touch me not!" There was an unsettling and unnatural quality to his voice, like that of a snarling animal backed into a corner. Fili started and, indeed, he took one wary step away from his brother.

"Thorin will know of this." Fili's expression was grim which Bilbo shuddered to look upon. "He should be warned you are unfit to finish our quest."

"Speak not a word to Thorin!" Kili's lashed out and with alarming violence he was on his feet as though his leg no longer pained him. His face was inches from Fili's, who stood his ground boldly, staring with disbelief and some sadness at his younger brother. "I belong at his side-with you! You would not betray your own brother!"

Fili's face grew very pale and for a moment it appeared to Bilbo that he had lost command of his tongue. Wordlessly he nodded, muscles tensed and willing to overpower his own flesh and blood should the need have risen. Bilbo held his breath. By and by strange glint left Kili's eyes and he returned to himself, shaking his head as though a madness had passed over him. He sank back into his chair, breathing heavily.

"No." Fili said at length. "I would not betray my brother. Were he in his right mind."

"Fili…" Kili's voice weakened, eyes closed. "….Forgive me. I spoke rashly."

"You are weary and sick. Would you not let me examine the wound?"

Kili shook his head. "I prefer none touch it lest it become festered. I will mend, that I promise." A wan smile crossed his lips. "While I have strength left in me I will be at your side come Durin's Day."

Fili looked uncertain but nodded his assent. He took up the goblet he had set down a mere moment ago.

"Drink. Here is spiced wine. It will do you good and aid your rest."

Kili nodded his thanks and took a satisfying gulp. The Master's wine was very sweet and much too strong for Bilbo to have endured with equal vigor. When the cup was drained Fili quietly withdrew, leaving his brother to nod wearily in front of the fire, sleep rendering his breaths slow and deep. Unseen, Bilbo crept up beside the slumbering dwarf and took a good look at him. His cheek was very flushed and hot and he had shed his cloak and outer tunic for comfort. His great fists rested in his lap and when Bilbo placed one invisible hand against his wrist to feel how quick his pulse beat, something hard and small dropped to the floor.

Curiously the hobbit bent to pick it up. He had not the faintest idea of what it could be. A smooth stone no bigger than a man's thumb. It was as black and shiny as a crow's wing with beautiful carvings etched into its side that had the look of rune letters though Bilbo could not guess what they meant.

"Bless my soul. What's this?"

He turned it round and round in his palm, examining it though to any passerby it would appear as though an enchanted stone were levitating by itself in midair. A good luck charm if he were to guess, like a rabbit's foot or other blessed object. Perhaps it had been given to him as a reminder of home, like Bilbo's own pocket watch which he kept close. Whatever it was it was doubtlessly quite dear to Kili so Bilbo carefully and quietly slipped it back into his warm lifeless hand.

"Sleep well, Thorin's kin." Bilbo whispered in his ear. "Sleep and dream of your waiting kingdom."

The next morning Bilbo saw very little of the brothers as he was roused quite early by strangers (whom he later learned were the armory keepers) to be fitted for armor before their journey. Bilbo found the entire business tedious and unbecoming, especially when no armor small enough could be found to suit his frame.

"I'd just as soon face down Smaug in a Sunday bonnet!" He grumbled.

At the last they settled on a heavy helm that was much too big for his head and fell constantly in front of his eyes despite the strapping wrapped tight about his chin. He was eager to be done with metal suits and was glad when Thorin gathered the company upon the wharf where a great fanfare had been waiting. Thorin himself looked grand and powerful, wearing a vest of chain metal and bracers of intricately forged iron. Looking round he saw that each dwarf had donned warlike garb to suit him and were now eager to be on their way.

With difficulty Bilbo managed to get one foot inside the boat, causing only a mild splash for the clothes he'd been given were ill-fitted and he could hardly see for the blasted helm! At last he caught a glimpse of Kili who looked splendid in his armor and every bit a Prince but for the sickly pallor across his handsome face. Last night's rest had served him no better and Bilbo wondered what would happen if his wounded leg were to fail him on the slope of Erebor.

However, just as the lad was about to take one step off the dock, Thorin reached out his hand and blocked his path. Bilbo blinked, straining to hear the heated words passing between Thorin and his nephew. Thorin's gaze was tender, not cold and unforgiving as the hobbit might have guessed. Though Kili pleaded and shook his head, Thorin would not be moved to change his mind. At last, Kili seemed to admit defeat and with this so too did his will to keep standing for he soon found a pile of netting to rest on and hung his head in shame. A weariness greater than sorrow seemed to claim him and all light vanished from his youthful face.

Now Fili's voice could be heard above the cheers and fanfare raised by the townspeople and Thorin's face grew graver and his tone much sterner. Oin, who had the chiefest knowledge among them of herbs and medicines, climbed ashore to tend Kili and Bilbo could not help wondering what physic he could possibly offer to ward off such a foreign malady. Orc weapons were cruel and fashioned from malice, unlike the darts of men or elves, and their poisons promised agonizing death. Talk of loyalty and kinship flew above his head and no sooner had Bilbo seated himself comfortably when the boat jolted and bumped against its pier. Fili had jumped out of the berth and stood now by his suffering brother.

'Likely better off.' Thought Bilbo. 'Should any ill befall Thorin on this mad quest, there must be someone left behind to preserve the throne.'

Cheers and music rang out like firecrackers against the early morning sky as the barge was pushed off, clearing a misted pathway on its course. Many eyes, save Thorin's, were on Fili as he tried to ease his brother's distress, and many hearts were troubled not knowing further of his fate. If Thorin grieved for his nephews, he gave no sign as he now stood proud upon the bow of the ship, eyes locked on the Mountain he had fought and sacrificed so much to look upon once more.

Yet again and again, Bilbo's gaze was drawn back to Laketown, even as the shore grew smaller and fainter from sight. In his heart bloomed dread for Kili and Fili whose fate would remain unknown until after a dragon had been dealt with. Kili might succumb to his wound never once gazing upon the home of his ancestors. Or they might all perish in dragon fire and none would hear of them again.

Bilbo banished these thoughts at once and decided to keep himself firmly grounded. Kili would surely not die under the loyal watch of his kinsmen and there was certainly far more to a hobbit than the Great Worm Smaug could ever have predicted.


	4. A Fire Remembered

As to the rest of our story, I would very much like to say that all went according to a plan except neither Thorin nor his Party nor even Gandalf the Wizard had thought up one in the first place. Therefore it was on the small shoulders of Bilbo Baggins that the fate of all rested. How was the little hobbit to know that on this day he would outwit a dragon, win back the treasure of Erebor and defy a King all before teatime?

Setting one hairy, trembling foot on the forbidden gold would have been deemed valor enough to fill an entire storybook back in the Shire. But Bilbo not only set one foot down, he set two and all the rest of him followed into the terrible creature's den. Of course, he had the help of his magic ring to hide him and it was lucky that he had for dragons have keen eyes and old as he was, Smaug might have turned him to ash on site and gobbled down his bones had the great worm awoken to any creature, man or beast, shuffling through his stolen horde.

But all that was past now and I am proud to say that Bilbo himself saw nothing overly brave or grand about his deeds. The dragon was dead at last and Thorin the mountain's rightful King. At once, the dwarves rejoiced, to see Thorin bedecked in the ancient royal robes of his grandfather, the great King Thror. A crown of magnificent bearing sat on his head and to Bilbo he seemed very much a changed dwarf.

However, brave Bilbo would face ever so much more than a dragon and a King before he would ever learn the fate of his friends. The very night he'd stolen into the dragon's lair was the night old Smaug in his wrath wrought fiery vengeance on the innocent people of Laketown. Bilbo wept bitterly then for he was sure brave Kili, Fili and dear Oin and Bofur had been toasted to bits and sunk to the bottom of the Lake. And what of the noble Bargeman, brave Bard and all his sweet babes? Bilbo's heart sank into despair then and Bifur, Bombur, and old Gloin wet their beards in mourning for their brothers.

Thorin, now King Under the Mountain, watched the endless spires of black smoke rising from the township and covered his eyes. Of Fili and Kili he spoke no words though none reached him in that hour. Thus was his mind bent and his heart contorted, consumed wholly by the Arkenstone concealed within the bowels of his stronghold. Yet if Kings could weep, then dragons could be slain and so fell Smaug with a tremendous crash into the frozen depths and never again was the beast whispered of to plague Elf, Man or Dwarf.

The Arkenstone. That, too, would become a matter for re-visiting.

For two days the hobbit gloomily haunted the towering gates of Erebor, feeling smaller and more alone than he had ever felt in his life. O how his little heart leapt when at last he caught sight in the distance of four dark specks making their way up the side of the mountain. Gladder still was he when those specks turned out to be none other than Fili and Kili, dressed in fine new garments and stomping with great vigor past the rocky ledges and boulders. Behind them, the elder dwarves Bofur and wise Oin, carrying his packs of medicine, came rumbling and grumbling up the mountain.

"Hallo! Hallo!" Bilbo waved his arms excitedly until he was sure they would fall off. "Fili! Kili! Oin and Bofur! Hail and well met!"

Voices raised and cheerful noise rang through the barren valley. The two younger dwarves all but ran to greet him, so keen was their joy at the sight of their lost burglar. For all the fire and torment they had undoubtedly endured they were both bright of eye and clear of visage, so much that Bilbo had to wonder what miracles had occurred below while Smaug slithered through the forges.

He would learn all much later when the weary party took their rest inside the Great Hall of Thorin's Grandfather, Thror. Fili and Kili were not to see their uncle until much later for Bilbo had hardly a moment to mention the altered state of his mind. No, he was fit to burst in his desire to know how Kili had survived his ordeal and would speak no more of his own adventures until he knew theirs.

Kili, though much recovered in strength, took leave to rest a spell while his brother recounted their tale. He lay peacefully on a bed laid with pelts of wild beasts, tributes from Elven Kingdoms of old. Gone was the dreadful pallor from his cheek and his leg, now packed with a poultice of salves and leaves beyond description, no longer tormented him. Bilbo noted with no small relief that not a single trace of that terrible fever lingered upon the Prince and his repose was stormless and silent as the very stones around them.

It was Fili who began their account when all had gathered round with ample mug in hand and pipes aglow. His noble voice was strong and clear, echoing powerfully against the cavernous walls.

"My kinsmen you know me well. I am a constant solider, a sometime craftsman and forever defender of our House though readily I do confess my youth has earned me little more than paltry fame. I have fought worthy battles alongside you-my cousins, uncles and friends—for the preservation of our sacred bloodline. I have faced foes the likes of which would hinder the Grey Wizard himself. Yet I have never known true fear until these past days behind us."

As these words fell his voice grew solemn and a shadow cast across his brow.

"I had feared that day his last." Spoke Fili, seated now his pipe in hand. "No sooner had the barge vanished from sight when the foul taint overcame him and he succumbed to fever."

"Aye." Oin supplied. "In my years, I have not seen a wound so grievous. The lad could barely stand for the pain of it. Thorin's forbearance on the wharf saved his life that day sure as my beard is long."

"He fell into my arms and it was a blessing most unexpected that Bofur, too, remained behind for it took all our strength to bear him hither through the streets."

Now Bofur took up their tale.

"We thought it all for the best and bore him swiftly back to the Master's Hold but that bloated and ignoble creature offered us no aid or shelter though we implored him. He would not be moved and not a soul in the town would so much as speak to us."

Bofur paused, as he did on countless occasions that night, to gulp from his flagon of ale. The memory of dwarves stretches quite long and his throat would beg much wetting before his yarn had ended.

"The lad was in very poor state, indeed. Why he appeared half dead by the time we reached Bard's home! No color graced his cheek and barely a halting breath left in him."

"Bard!" Cried Bilbo, not intending to interrupt but his wits had got the better of him. "Good old Bard! Of all the men in Laketown, I knew he would not forsake us!"

"He was not altogether pleased at our meeting." Fili admitted. "Yet when he looked upon my brother so sick in my arms, he relented and gave us succor."

Now Oin took over this tale for it was he who had tended Kili within Bard's house. It was he who had cleaned and cauterized the wound, who had assessed the flesh now made black and vile with the poisoned taint. It was he who held his battered trumpet against Kili's breast to count every tortured breath and beat of his heart. Time had been measured then in those frantic patterns and time was the only victory to be got from this war. For Kili had unwisely hidden his illness for so long that the orc's dark magic had begun to overpower him, invading every vein and vessel, destroying all the defense of his youth and vigor.

"The lad was fading faster than I had learning to mend. No sooner had we got him settled on the bed when he began thrashing and raising a great disturbance in his delirium. I do recall the smallest child became frightened and hid behind her Father's leg while we three struggled to keep him abed. Many hours his agonized cries rang to wake the dead and his eyes, when he opened them, held no memory of us, not even his closest kin."

Fili recalled these words grimly and his gaze held a faraway look as though once more seeing the body of his brother lain out before him.

"It was a fearful time though we three had no thought to weaken our hearts. Kili burned with a fire beneath his skin such as I have not felt since standing too near a lit forge. We gave him water which he would not take willingly and so we were obliged to force it past his lips."

"Oh, poor Kili! Poor Kili!" Bilbo's thoughts escaped him, so full was his heart. "Such anguish he must have endured!"

"I thought my old back would break for the fight he gave us!" Bofur took another great pull on his ale. "Oin called for herbs, medicine, anything to calm the flame but the Bargeman had nothing of use."

Bilbo recalled then Bard's modest pantry and his rows of exotic powders and many-colored extracts. Had there truly been no remedy to comfort the sick in such a house? Fili's following words answered his question.

"The little maids tried all they could, picking through mounds of colored leaves and berries. They brewed up a potent, wild-smelling tea such as might hasten sleep." He smiled faintly at the memory. "The eldest girl, Sigrid by name, offered me a bowl of it to give him and it seemed to work for he stopped thrashing so violently for a time after swallowing it."

"Feverfew and tree bark are all well and good for spider bites and head colds but this was an orc wound!" Oin continued gruffly. "I had learned long ago that the elves used a common weed to harbor their healing magic in. It is called Kingsfoil in the common tongue but so desperate was I to ease Kili's suffering and buy us more time, that I made request of it."

"Bard had made mention that men in their wisdom used such plants to fatten their pigs so off I stumbled into the night to seek out the nearest pig pen!" Bofur chortled merrily into his third mug. "By Durin's Beard to think I should have plucked so coveted a leaf from the grinding muzzle of a pork chop!"

His merry words drew quiet laughter from those gathered and well he might have continued in this rakish manner had not good Fili taken up the remainder of their tale.

"With aid from fair Sigrid's remedy, some measure of peace fell on Kili and he had begun at last to fall asleep. No sooner had I damped the sweat from his brow when a distant thunder was heard from the mountainside. Again and again, a great boom shook the foundations of the house until the smaller girl, Tilda, screamed: _O alas! We shall be slain by the wicked dragon!_ "

Bilbo recalled the sweet lass who had secreted to Kili linens and medicine not long ago. 'How awful,' he thought to himself. '…To be a defenseless child in the wake of such terror."

"I urged the Bowman take leave, abandon this place and secret his children to safety but he would not. No instead, he did a far braver thing than I have witnessed among all the men I have known in my time. He pulled down from his rafters an iron shaft, a deadly black arrow of legend. It was then he swore before us all to kill the beast and end its reign."

Bilbo had to stop his hands from applauding the brave Bard there and then but Fili's tale continued anew.

"Entrusted with the safety of his children, Bard set out into the night with bow and blade. Yet even as we waited and watched for Bofur's return, we found ourselves besieged by a fell legion of orcs!"

Oin raised his voice. "O it was a perilous night, my friends, one after another! Never in all my memory has there been such disastrous turning of events! From raging fevers, to maddened dragons to battles with orcs and nary more than bread knives to defend ourselves! How we did survive to sit among you now will long be a mystery of our age."

"That mystery had a name, if I recall." Bofur stated. "And pretty hands besides."

"Tauriel."

At that moment, they all turned to see Kili risen from his bed and standing now tall among them. How long he had listened to the tale of his deliverance Bilbo could not guess but he quietly took his place at their table, speaking words hushed with reverence.

"She came though I know not how or when or even why. My memory was lost in fever, its hungered grip like chains wrapped round my soul, dragging me under. I dimly recall a skirmish, of stabbing and slashing with anything I could grasp in my feeble hands. A foe was felled and then I lay helpless as a newly born pup, my body in flame. Each breath I drew came hard won and a fell voice whispered in my mind over and over. _Yield, all is done. Yield and breathe no more._ "

At these fearsome words Bilbo shuddered and Fili bowed his head. For now Kili spoke of death and defeat. Such would have been his end had not the grace of the Elvish (and Bofur's swift legs) intervened.

"The elf maid, Tauriel. I thought her at first a dream, so addled was my delirium. Flames and shadows all played tricks on my eyes so surely she, too, had been conjured. She could not be by my side as I'd so yearned since our parting." A smile played across his lips and his handsome features softened at the memory.

"Yet there she was, engulfed in starlight, kneading in her hands the remedy which would drive the poison from my blood. My eyes saw nothing but darkness yet the pale vision of her conquered all blackness eating at my heart. My hurt was unbound and I felt strong hands bearing down upon me. I cried out, at least I must have, for many heightened voices entreated me to lie still."

"Nearly knocked my teeth out ye did, Whelp!" Bofur cried. "You fought like the dragon himself lay on your back!"

"Your forgiveness I beg, good Bofur." Kili lowered his gaze and flushed. "I had not my proper wits about me."

"What of this Tauriel?" Dori, the youngest among them, wondered out loud with eyes wide as tea saucers. "What enchantment did the elf witch cast over you?"

"Witch she was not nor any such servant of darkness!" Fili spoke sharply so that all were humbled and still. "With these eyes I witnessed the grace of elves and ever after come what may, no kingdom under my rule will cast out any of their fair race."

Kili's voice spoke now, distant and dreamlike, and all gathered were moved by his words.

"If looking on her was enchantment, then it was one from which I never wished to be free. From my deathbed, I gazed on her. Ah, how fair and wondrous was she! How can words properly describe what my eyes saw then? I tell you, I half expected to wake and find myself among the Halls of my Brethren. But no, she was there as real as you who sit now before me. The light of the stars themselves danced in her eyes as she cast them on my wretchedness, her hands like cool water upon my breast. In my boldness and half in fantastical imagining, I dared lift a finger to touch a tendril of her hair, shining like amber in firelight."

Bilbo could now imagine the tall regal elf maid, beautiful beyond compare, standing at Kili's bedside whispering elvish incantations of healing. From Kili's words he conjured a mist like vision of her ministrations, of toxic blood cleansed as a unicorn purifies tainted wellsprings. Of a fever's torment vanquished by a single touch. Of ancient words falling like silver dew, driving away all death and despair. He saw Kili's handsome face at peace in sleep, his wound now closed and his brow cooled. Such were the wonders of elvish healing and such was the miracle that had saved a Son of Durin that night.

"Seems to me that fever boiled your brains, laddie." Gloin folded his arms gruffly, ever desirous to make his opinion known. "Such gilded words, such lofty poetry for a mere stripling of an elf! This has never been heard of before among Dwarfkind!"

"Nay and so it shall never be again." Kili whispered and to Bilbo, a strange sorrow weighed his words, as though he had lost something that could never be replaced. The sad humor did not linger about him long for he soon shook it off and a youthful grin lit his face once more.

"Well, here we all are, fit and whole!" He cried. "And by old Smaug's tail, where is Uncle? Here we have told all our brave deeds and there is one among us yet missing! I've no wish to regale the entire telling a second time!"

At this, Thorin's company exchanged uneasy glances and Fili and Kili were left bewildered. For a great while none dared speak, a heaviness cast over them all. Bilbo at last found his words and he spoke them with dread.

"You will find Thorin much changed, I fear. He is locked inside the treasure hall day and night. Come hither but approach him not for I dread what may befall you."

Fili and Kili were both swift as eagles on their feet, hastening down the winding stone staircase to the vast store of gold hidden safe within the mountain's great belly. Torches lit the pathways below and Bilbo nearly tripped over himself keeping up with the rest of them. At last they stopped upon a ledge overlooking mounds and hills, valleys and dales of endless treasure but their eyes saw none of it.

"Thorin!" Fili shouted into the great hall. "Uncle, we have come!"

Silence loomed heavy like a storm above their heads and for a very long while nothing moved within the shining horde. Bilbo's heart beat in measured thumps, his sight all but blinded by the dance of fire against gold when at last Thorin King emerged from one of the many counting rooms carved within the solid walls below. In that terrible silence, Thorin's whisper spread fast throughout the hall, heard as clearly by all as though he now addressed a gathered throng.

"Gold…" Was all he uttered.

Fili and Kili could no nothing but stand in wonder and amazement, their eyes never having once gazed upon the fabled treasure of their ancestors. They would have been but babes when Thorin and their family were driven forever out of Erebor and now they stood before a sight which paled their wildest imaginings and rent every whispered fable of their childhood to dull tatters.

"Gold beyond measure." Again Thorin's voice filled the magnificent hall yet his gaze never once fell upon his nephews, nor Bilbo, nor his waiting subjects. "Beyond sorrow and grief."

At last Thorin's sight lifted from the treasure beneath his feet and he cast reckoning eyes upon the astonished faces of Fili and Kili. To Bilbo, it seemed as though he were seeing them for the first time in as many years as had passed days.

"Behold the great treasure hold of Thror."

Yet Fili and Kili stood motionless as statues, neither daring to breathe or so much as blink. In that instant a glittering arc shot forth from Thorin's arm as he cast aloft a carven gemstone sharply aimed. Shaken from his stupor, Fili caught it and held it up for all to see. Within his trembling hands he now held one fragment of all the wealth of Dwarfkind and his face grew pale at such a wonder.

"Welcome my sister's sons." Thorin laid a hand over his heart. "To the Kingdom of Erebor."

And now Thorin approached his nephews and to their eyes they beheld not Thorin Oakenshield, not even their beloved uncle but a King bedecked in royal ornament and stately raiment. How different he seemed to Bilbo now, how much less a dwarf and more a painted legend from a storybook. As Thorin climbed the final step, Kili's strength failed him and he knelt before his uncle, weeping. Thorin raised him up with both hands and kissed his brow. When he spoke the madness did seem to leave him as he embraced his kinsmen.

"My sister's sons—Fili and Kili—such treasures do I hold cheap against the blood of my bernes!"

Wise Balin spoke then with one voice for all: "Long live the King! May his forges burn forever bright and his reign last ever longer!"

To Kili and Fili Thorin spoke once more. "We are the makers of our destiny. It is with our courage that we pay tribute to the memory of my Grandfather."

Joyous cheers rose up from the party of Dwarves and cries of "Hail Thror!" and "Long live Thorin King" were heard among them. Bilbo felt tears welling hot in his eyes and he instantly regretted leaving his handkerchief behind in Hobbiton. He wept a great deal to witness Thorin reunited with all his kin, now at their original thirteen. What a bloody adventure they had been through and what a mad quest their paths had lead! For all their trouble and toil, for every bit of dragon fire and every cursed Orc battalion the line of Durin had prevailed. Bilbo's heart in that moment rejoiced with the Company for in his very blood he carried the wisdom that rang true for all good creatures of Middle Earth. That no riches above or below could endure beyond loyalty of kin and no madness held stronger than the bonds between flesh and blood.

By habit, his hand ducked into his waistcoat, searching for any sort of scrap to dab his eyes with when his fingers froze on the smooth pale surface of a large and very smooth stone tucked deep within his pocket.

Bless him but that would be an entirely different blunder altogether…


	5. Chapter 1

To think at one time a splinter from old Mungo's chair had once been the most infernal bother! To Bilbo it seemed in some other existence, common sense and nothing more had been the chiefest means to preserving life and limb. In the heat of battle (a thing which, by now, Bilbo hoped he was very much through), one does not run headfirst into an axe blade. Avoiding dwarves and their doings altogether would have been far more advisable in hindsight. Ill met by cold, slippery stone the ragged Company sought to regain themselves ashore, free of danger. Each dwarf was soaked to his skin, bruised in every bone and wearied beyond any hardship their path had thus far lead them. That they were still alive was the true wonderment, Bilbo decided. They had been whalloped and rollicked down a perilous river pursued by many displeased Elves and that really was quite enough for an afternoon!

The unexpected siege of warlike orcs was sugar atop a boiled sweet in Bilbo's wretched estimation. The valiant hobbit stood shivering in his badly torn waistcoat, ears still ringing from their narrow escape. How desperately he longed for the comforts of hearth and home at that moment. As he attempted, feebly, to wring out his hopelessly ruined garments, a sudden cry of anguish froze his heart.

A black shaft had pierced Kili, Thorin's youngest nephew, during the melee. Now the brave archer knelt panting and trembling on the wet stone, having barely hobbled four steps from the river's edge.

"Kili is wounded!" Fili, rarely more than three steps away from his brother, was swift to speak. "His leg needs binding!"

"We make haste!" If the sight of his injured nephew affected him, the gruff leader gave no sign. "There is an orc pack directly behind us!"

"Haste indeed." Bilbo overheard Fili mutter darkly. "Give a body half a chance before his lifeblood drains away!"

"Peace, Fili." Kili's youthful face was very white and drawn as though warding off a malady that cut deeper than flesh or bone. "It is nothing."

Good Bofur, who was at hand, moved in to get a better look.

"Bad, is it lad?"

"I'm fine." The dwarf would speak no more, lips pressed into a hard, bloodless line. He ground a torn bit of rag into the gaping wound.  
"Bind his leg." Thorin ordered. "You have two minutes."

Bilbo scampered frantically across the rocks, taking great care not to slip as he approached the brooding leader of their Company. He was shaken and not a little frightened by the severe chill in Thorin's voice.

"Whelp should be grateful he still has his life!" The Dwarf King's eyes were like two flints, cast beyond the edge of the forest.

"Grateful? Thorin, we should be thanking him!" Bilbo spluttered, catching his breath.

"I give no thanks for fools! He does not think before he acts!" Bilbo was quite taken aback and knew not what to say. The overwhelming pity in his heart for poor Kili's suffering undid him. From this well did he draw his next words.

"Were Gandalf here, might he not say the same of you?"

The little hobbit steeled himself as though expecting a blow. But Thorin's lip only curled and to Bilbo his manner seemed much changed.

"I need no counsel from a halfling! Gather yourself and make ready!"

Disgusted, he took his leave, storming away from the hobbit to stand watch a good distance away from the party. Bilbo thought it all for the better. Many eyes were on Fili as he tended his brother, winding layers of wet sinew and linen about his leg. In time the sinew would shrink and grow taut, stemming the flow of blood.

Kili's lips set in grim determination when the task was done, the price for his boldness etched all too clearly in his pale face. Though aid was freely offered, Kili would take none. When at last he had regained his feet again, he could not meet the eyes of his Uncle, though he had been savior of them all.

Without any means to cross the water, the road to Erebor would stretch ever farther beyond their reach. Durin's Day was at hand and time had become infinitely more precious than all the gold in Thrain's kingdom. Doubtless, such fell thoughts weighed on Thorin's mind beyond love for his kinsman.

 _'A hurt as grievous as this',_ Bilbo thought to himself, _'will take no small amount of physic to set right.'_

Of habit (for hobbits are nothing if not resourceful) Bilbo scanned the fauna around the dense patch of forest. Not a fern seemed even remotely familiar. This was strange country to him and he had never encountered the variety of wild grasses and brambles along the banks of any river in the Shire. Back home, a hobbit could concoct a remedy from bits and bobs in his own larder, recipes passed down from generations. Bilbo himself knew how to make a wonderful salve from honey and rendered fat, applied with tincture of foul-smelling sap. Alas, Bilbo's own knowledge did not extend farther beyond treating a bout of occasional indigestion or burn from a cookstove. Arrow wounds were as foreign to him as dragon speech.

"Oh dear, oh dear." Bilbo wrung his small hands, murmuring to himself. "This is terrible." In a day or two the wound would fester and then surely, he would fall into fever. He prayed Oin had something useful to salvage from his small leather scrip that would stay Kili's health until the Lonely Mountain was in sight.

"We're like naked bernes in a blizzard!" Dwalin cursed. "I feel like me left arm's been hewed off without me axe!"

"We'll forge you a new one as soon as our home is reclaimed." Balin assured him.

"We'll never reach the mountain at this rate!" Gloin, ever an optimist, grumbled.

"Aye, we're in need of a raft! I don't fancy getting my beard wet a second time!" Oin, the more pragmatic of the two in Bilbo's estimation, offered up his solution.

"But a raft will take days to build!" Ori objected. "Surely we'll be too late!"

Kili's dark eyes were watchful though he did not voice his thoughts.

Thorin had that moment raised his hand as though to address the party when a tall shadow crept over his features. All were startled at the approach of a tall figure dressed in a tattered hide coat. In both hands he bore a long bow and a single notched arrow was aimed directly at Thorin's heart.

"Who are you? What are you doing in these lands?"

It was Balin, eldest and most temperate among them, who addressed the strange dark man. With a fleeting wink to Bilbo, he whispered. "Providence, my lads. It appears our luck is finally beginning to turn."

Bard the Bowman was not at all keen on the notion of smuggling thirteen dwarves and a burglar through the guarded waterways to Laketown. His coat, however, spoke of hard times and such men are easily swayed by gold. Still, Bilbo thought his eyes were not unkind as he spoke with Balin. Kili had been first to offer up what coin he had, Fili quickly following suit. The hard man's reluctance swayed when he saw the riches offered up by the ragged company in vouchsafe for their passage.

"I will see to it that you enter Laketown unharmed." Bard vowed and Bilbo trusted somewhere in his heart that the Bargeman was a man of his word.

"I can manage." Kili shook off his brother's guiding hand. Though it looked to Bilbo that his face grew paler and his breath came shorter, the injured archer wended his way aboard the deck by his own strength.

Bard spoke rarely, one hand on the rudder as they drifted forth from the shore and down towards the yawning expanse of the lake.

"We shall reach the first checkpoint within the hour, Masters." Bard's words cut above the flurry of dwarvish chatter. "When we do, you must follow my command all without question."

Thorin remained silent though his followers all nodded their assent with an "Aye." or a "Hell."

Kili rested against the side of his brother, staring out into the mirror of the lake that bore them onward. He stirred only when Filir nudged him to offer up his waterskin. Kili drank of it gratefully.

"The sun will set ere we reach the town." Fili drew his cloak tight about his shoulders. "I would our path were lighter."

The wounded dwarf made no sound, nor even seemed to hear Fili's words though his limbs shook violently with cold. His gaze was distant, as though an inside voice were calling his name.

"Kili? Kili!"

A rash of troubled murmuring spread swift throughout the party. Alerted by Fili's cry, Thorin moved stormily from his hushed conference with Dwalin to investigate.

"What ails him?" He demanded, placing a hand on Kili's head.

"Leave me. I am well enough." Kili panted, fighting to stay awake as Thorin fell to one knee beside him.

Thorin's brooding countenance did not betray his heart. To Fili he spoke sharply.

"Get a fire going." Tearing away his own cloak, he draped it around the shoulders of his nephew. "Ori, water. Now."

Ori rushed forth with a waterskin and a tin mug somehow secreted from the Elvish guard of Mirkwood. With the aid of Bilbo's scrounging (he was a burglar after all), Fili managed to find scraps dry enough to build a steady blaze, using what little he could find on deck to contain the meager flames. Oin, rummaging through his scrip, sighed and shook his white, shaggy head.

"I've nary more than a sleep draught left." He said to Thorin. "We've no herbs to tend him."

"Dig deeper. Find anything." Thorin looked up to meet the eyes of Bard. Their nervous bustling had not gone unnoticed by the bargeman.

"That one." Bard nodded to the hunched form of Kili. "Looks a bit peaky, aye?"

Thorin's reply was colder than a winter sky, his manner brusque and guarded.

"Took a fall by the river. He will mend in a week's time."

"I know an arrow wound when I see one, Master Dwarf." The man looked gravely down at the injured dwarf.

"His hurt is _our_ affair." Spoke Fili, trying to rouse his brother to small avail.

"Indeed." The Bowman drew from his pocket a small hide pouch. "Then this will be of no importance then."

"What's that then?" Bilbo asked.

"Willow bark. Our people learned to break fevers with roots that stretched below the earth. It may not serve him overmuch but it should ease the pain some until we reach port."

"We are in your debt again, human." Thorin muttered reluctantly.

Oin hummed, receiving the pouch from the bargeman with a short bow. "It will serve. Though pity we've no beesweets or treacle to improve the taste."

"The pits with the taste!" Kili groaned, eyes closed fast against the pain. "I'd trade every ore in Dain's Iron Hill for a moment's peace!"

"Brave laddie, you shall have your rest. This will boil up in no time." Oin set to his task quickly, crouched by the small fire with the tin cup and handful of bitter bark.  
-

By luck or by blessing the winds blew quieter and the tide in its rumbling fell low, for the company were all too well acquainted with rough waters. The gray and gloomy water matched Thorin's stoic countenance as the Dwarf King surveyed his band. Kili's dark hair lay damp across his brow and he could not be easily roused. The brew from the bargeman's pouch had taken effect though none truly knew its course. Fili kept watch over his brother with a stalwart eye, rarely moving but to comfort his kinsman. Kili's breathing grew slower as the water's temper gentled and he slept.

"He burns."

Bilbo crouched by Kili's side, offering in his hands a second mug of the dark willow brew. Oin had ordered another dose upon examination of the wound which had grown foul by some evil taint.

"Burning is not always so bad a thing?" Bilbo quipped helpfully though Fili's expression did not waver. "Fevers do serve their purpose oddly enough. At the very least he is warm and that is better than I can say for my poor toes." He placed a small hand on Kili's shoulder in an attempt to wake him.

"Come now, Master Kili. It's time for more nasty-tasting medicine."

To his surprise, Kili stirred. Blinking slowly in confusion at his surroundings, he did not appear to recognize the face of the hobbit nor even his kin beside him.

"Are the forges lit?" He murmured, still half dreaming. "It is so warm now."

Bilbo looked to Fili in alarm. He reached out a hand to quiet him.

"Hush. Be still."

Bilbo offered up the cup of bitter brew but Kili turned his head.

"Drink it." Fili persisted, forcing the cup from Bilbo's hand to his brother's lips.

"Come, don't be an infant." Kili winced as though pained, the dark liquid trickling down his chin as he swallowed it down to the last. Finally rid of the horrid medicine, he settled once more against the deck and wandered lost in sleep.

Bilbo stayed a bit longer watching the young dwarf as he breathed quietly. At the helm stood Thorin, gazing out upon the lake as still as carved stone. What dark thoughts weighed on his mind, Bilbo trembled to guess. That their quest could be doomed so close to its end made Bilbo's thoughts solemn indeed. Would Thorin choose the life of his nephew over the call of the Mountain?

Fili's words reached him again.

"Since our roving age, I have been charged with his care." Fili's hand brushed aside the damp strands from Kili's eyes. "In those days, we would watch the craftsmen as they labored at the forges. Fool would have run straight into one of the grinders were it not for me." Fili's blue eyes shone with remorse. "I have failed him."

"Failed?" Bilbo was dumbstruck.

"If he should perish-"

"Oh surely not!" Bilbo cried. "Not with the devotion of his kin!"

"I fear even that may not be enough." Fili's gaze set upon his Uncle. "I have lived to watch good dwarves fall. One by one, I have seen our family diminish, felled by foes in battle or lost to the gold sickness. By Durin, I will see my own death before I see his."

"Uncle?" Kili muttered fitfully in his dreaming. "Is it nightfall? Where has the light gone...?"

"It is the mist." Bilbo shushed him, keeping his fears tucked safe in his back pocket. "We will soon reach shore. I for one will be thankful indeed to be on dry land."

"Land..." Kili sighed, his weary head falling back down to his breast. "I should very much like...to see home again."


End file.
